Page 20 of Blackwood

After that? Just red.

“Hey, Carlos,” I say, voice calm as death. “Still breathing?”

He turns, eyes wide.

“Let’s fix that.”

I slam him into the wall before he can make a sound. The blade slides under his ribs slow and mean. I drag it sideways like I’m gutting a pig at the fucking slaughter.

He screams. I grin.

“What’s wrong, my guy? No bedtime story this time? No creepy commentary about little girls?”

I twist the blade and yank it out. His shirt blooms red. “You like fear and power, don’t ya? Let’s see how brave you are with your intestines on the tile.”

I stab lower this time and lean close to his ear. “Newsflash, Carlos, you don’t have power. You never did.”

Vince comes charging over with a lamp like he’s in some damn Lifetime movie.

“Cute,” I laugh as I duck, sweep his legs, stomp on his hand until bones crunch under my boot like eggshells. He wails. I grab him by the hair and slam his face into the glass table.

Twice.

It shatters.

Sorry Mariela.

“Blue balls, right?” I growl in his ear. “Said you got blue balls just thinking about her?”

CRACK.

His nose caves. Blood sprays.

“You’re lucky I don’t cut your dick off and paint the walls with it.”

He’s choking now. Bleeding. Barely conscious. Not good enough. I grab the back of his head and smash it into the marble floor. Again. And again.

“You don’t get to breathe around her.”

When I finally stop, he’s twitching in a puddle of blood and teeth. Carlos is crawling. Or trying to crawl. I crouch beside Carlos. Real calm.

“You’re not a predator. Not a king. Not even a man. You’re just a maggot playing dress-up in a skin suit.”

I raise the knife. He gurgles—blood bubbling like a clogged drain. I lean in close enough for him to see my eyes.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper. “You’re not dying tonight.”

I smile, slow and cruel. “That’s the punishment.”

Then I drive the knife in one last time. “And that one’s for Dylan.”

“Zeke?!”

Bella. Shit. Here we go, cue dramatic teen in three, two, one.

“Oh my God. What the hell?!” we both yell in unison.

I wipe the blade off on Carlos’s shirt. “Just takin’ out the trash, sis.”